


Making Things Difficult

by kisssanitygoodbye, moodymarshmallow



Series: Like Attracts Like [15]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisssanitygoodbye/pseuds/kisssanitygoodbye, https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fabian and Theron both hate parties, but this particular one turns out to be a lot more fun than usual for Fabian, and a lot less for Theron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Things Difficult

**Author's Note:**

> Written by kisssanitygoodbye

Despite its grandeur, the ballroom of the De Launcet mansion was getting stuffier by the minute. Fabian Hawke readjusted his collar to give himself more room to breathe and leaned back against the wall, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a generous sip as he watched the crowd. Every notable Kirkwaller had been invited to the soiree, and judging by the number of people that were either gathered around the small tables, helping themselves at the buffet or dancing to the jovial but elegant music (Orlesian, of course), not many had dared to cancel, including Fabian himself, who had been too intimidated by Dulci’s stubbornness to turn down the invitation. No one in this city could write passive-aggressive letters as well as she could.

But even though Fabian never really went to these parties by choice, they never ended up being as bad as he’d imagined, and one reason for that was currently standing next to him, glass in one hand and filled mushroom in the other, scanning the room with half-lidded but observant eyes. He was wearing the green finery again, something that still managed to make Fabian’s stomach flip with giddiness every time he looked at him. Fabian knew how much Theron hated these formal events, and the fact that he still accompanied him to every single one of them meant more to Fabian than he could ever express.

“Babette’s dress is ridiculous.” Fabian snorted, subtly pointing to the other corner of the room, where the younger of the De Launcet sisters was talking to Lady Elegant, guffawing at what seemed to be a particularly dirty joke.

Theron huffed, the corner of his mouth lifting into a sort-of-smile as he turned to look at Fabian. “I’d say it’s not only her dress that’s ridiculous.”

“Well, look at you gossiping. I think the nobles are rubbing off on you,” Fabian said, and he gave a quiet chuckle before he leaned down a bit to be closer to Theron’s face. “Why so judgmental? Still jealous that she was supposed to marry me?”

He laughed when Theron raised an eyebrow and took a sip of wine, quiet amusement sparkling in his eyes as he swallowed. “Hardly.”

Fabian was still grinning as he laid a hand on Theron’s arm, pointing at the mushroom in his hand. “Are you going to eat that or is it part of your outfit?”

Theron shook his head and smiled, then frowned, looking Fabian over with questioning eyes. “Hawke?”

“Hm?”

“Are you drunk?”

Fabian laughed again, the corners of his eyes crinkling with merriment. “No. Well, maybe a little. But no.”

“Good,” Theron said quietly, “because I won’t be able to carry you home.” He held the hand that was holding the mushroom out to Fabian, and even though he sighed, the sound was tinged with affection. “You eat it. It seems you need it more than I do.”

Fabian hesitated a few moments before he simply leaned forward and took the mushroom into his mouth, deliberately brushing Theron’s fingers with his lips as he did so. He winked, chewing thoroughly and reaching out a hand to slide it along Theron’s back, pausing as he reached the collar of his finery to dig his thumb into the crevice between Theron’s shoulder and neck.

Theron leaned into the touch and sighed again, but when his eyes met Fabian’s, they were full of unwavering resoluteness. “I’m not going into another office with you.”

“Did I say anything?” Fabian inched closer to be able to nuzzle the back of Theron’s head and get a whiff of his hair, which smelled so much like _them_ that it made Fabian smile. He recognised his soap and that fancy Orlesian balm that cost five sovereigns a flask, but underneath, he could still make out Theron’s own distinct scent, which he’d always associated with rainy summer days.

“No, but you were thinking it. I will not be caught by Seneschal Bran again.”

“Spoilsport.” Fabian grinned when he felt a hand on his thigh, trying to push him back, and he finally relented with a chuckle, pulling away and shaking his head in amusement. “Relax. No one’s paying attention to us. I could probably fuck you behind that chair over there and no one would notice.”

“Let’s not test that theory.” Theron’s voice was completely level, but Fabian knew him well enough to be able to recognise the slightly mocking undertone.

“I wouldn’t...” he started, smiling, but then he broke off, because Fifi de Launcet had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, beaming at both of them and offering them a small curtsey, her ample breasts threatening to spill out of her deep plunging dress. She was a pretty woman, Fabian figured, if a little grandiloquent.

“Evening, Messeres,” she said, her smile unwavering. “Enjoying the party?”

“Very much. Your parents have outdone themselves this time.” Fabian returned the affected smile that all nobles seemed to be incredibly fond of and tried not to roll his eyes. “And may I just say that you look absolutely lovely tonight, my lady?”

Fifi giggled, a high-pitched sound that hurt Fabian’s ears. “Oh, stop it.” She made a show of looking Fabian over before winking at him. “You look quite dashing yourself, Messere. The same goes for you, Messere Theron. That colour really brings out your eyes.”

Theron gave a slight nod, and Fabian knew how much effort it took for him to make his smile appear genuine. “Thank you.”

“Ahh, look at me blabbering and forgetting the reason why I’m here.” Fifi giggled again and turned her attention back to Fabian. “I was wondering if I might borrow your partner for a few minutes?” She briefly smiled at Theron. “I have never seen you dance, and I’d love the honour of being the one to break you in.” And when her gaze flickered back to Fabian, her smile was criminally large. “What do you say?”

Fabian felt Theron’s leg pressing against his own, a silent cry for help no doubt, and he tried to tell himself that he truly wanted to rescue his lover from Fifi De Launcet’s Orlesian charm, but the inexpressible glee that filled him at the prospect of watching Theron twirl through the room with barely hidden contempt and quiet resignation in his eyes made him hesitate.

He looked at Theron, an unspoken apology, before turning to Fifi and nodding. “Of course. Just bring him back in one piece.” He smiled as Fifi took Theron’s hand and moved towards the dancefloor. “Have fun you two!”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Fabian snorted into his wine glass, leaning against the wall again and watching as Theron was dragged to the other side of the room.

He turned back to Fabian as he and Fifi reached their destination amongst the other dancing couples, eyes narrowed and lips forming words that looked suspiciously like _I’m going to kill you_.

Fabian shrugged, still laughing, and Theron averted his gaze as Fifi brought them into the proper position and immediately took off, leading them across the dance floor with a confident smile, and Fabian raised an eyebrow, surprised at how easily Theron fell into step and mirrored her movements, despite never having learned any traditional Orlesian dances. What could use some work was Theron’s countenance, though, because even from a distance Fabian could see how utterly uncomfortable Theron was, and how many sardonic thoughts were running through his mind, most of which were probably directed at Fabian himself. But when Fifi looked down at Theron after her second twirl, he was smiling at her, and it didn't _look_ entirely fake.

When the two of them finally disappeared in the crowd, Fabian pushed off the wall and walked over to the buffet, helping himself to several more filled mushrooms and a slice of Anderfellian ham, which really just tasted like ham, and held smalltalk with Lady Elegant, who also couldn’t hold back a chuckle when Fabian explained the reason for Theron’s sudden absence.

“You are an evil man, Fabian Hawke,” she finally said before she left with a smile and a friendly brush of her hand against his shoulder.

Fabian just chuckled and poured himself another glass of wine, but he didn’t have much opportunity to enjoy the peace and quiet that had come with Elegant’s leaving, because just as he lifted the glass to his lips he felt another hand on his upper back, followed by fingernails digging into his shoulder.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Fabian turned his head to look at Theron, who was scowling at him, mouth twisted into a small pout, which made Fabian laugh again. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. And you were really good! You never told me you could dance.”

Theron huffed, inching past Fabian to grab a small berry tart from the buffet table, and he took a bite, chewing slowly and watching the people that had gathered around the fireplace.

“Oh come on, you’re not really going to give me the silent treatment, are you?” Fabian asked Theron--or rather the back of Theron’s head, since that was all he could see at the moment--and put a hand on Theron’s arm, drawing senseless patterns with his fingers. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. And seeing you with Fifi De Launcet made my night. That was the best thing that’s happened all week.”

Theron inclined his head, turning just enough to be able to meet Fabian’s eyes. “Well, I hope it was worth it, because I am never fucking you again.”

Fabian snorted. “Right.” Theron just stared back at him, face full of determination. “You don’t mean that.”

“Try me.” And with that, Theron put the rest of his tart into his mouth and left, heading for the richly ornamented doors that led to the balcony.

With a heavy sigh and a few select curses that would have made every single noble in the room blush if they’d been within earshot, Fabian followed. He found Theron leaning against the banister and looking over the garden, eyes focused on the fountain in the middle. The light breeze made his hair dance, and Fabian couldn’t help but smile as he watched him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Hm?”

Fabian walked the few steps, resting his arms against the banister and nudging Theron with his elbow. “Making things difficult for me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Theron kept looking at the fountain, the light of the lanterns reflecting in his pale green eyes, and Fabian thought he could see a small smile playing over his lips.

They said nothing for a while, just enjoying the cool night air and the break from all the buzz back inside, until Fabian couldn’t take it anymore. “You didn’t... really mean that, right?”

Theron finally looked at him, and now his smile was clearly visible. “I did.”

“Oh come on, there’s no way you’ll be able to abstain. As soon as I prepare a bath for you and get a bottle of that Antivan wine and take my shirt off you’re gonna be on your back with your legs in the air, like a mabari bitch in heat.”

Theron frowned. “Mabari don’t do that. One would think you’d know that, considering how much you worship that dog of yours.”

“That’s not the point, is it?” Fabian raised an eyebrow, and Theron chuckled quietly.

“Do you really want to test my resolve?” He pushed away from the banister and crossed his arms over his chest.

Fabian grinned, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind Theron’s ear. “Hmm... I guess I could... try and make it up to you?

“Oh?” Theron briefly closed his eyes when Fabian’s fingers began rubbing his earlobe. “Well, this better be good then.”

“I’m definitely planning on making it good,” Fabian murmured, leaning down and pressing a few small kisses against Theron’s jaw. “It’ll be a really thorough apology, I’ll give it my everything, and I won’t stop until you’re completely... hm... satisfied.”

He could feel Theron’s hot breath on his neck, and the light shiver going through Theron’s body when Fabian moved his lips to Theron’s ear and started nibbling on his earlobe made heat pool in the pit of his stomach. “Does that sound acceptable?” he whispered, giving Theron’s ear one last little tug before he pulled away to be able to look into his eyes again.

“Hmm...” Theron watched him for a few moments, and Fabian smiled, because he could see that Theron’s pupils were blown, a sure sign that he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted Fabian to believe. “Throw in a bottle of that Antivan wine and we have a deal.”

“Sounds good to me.” Fabian cupped the back of Theron’s head and leaned down again, growling when their lips met, a tender kiss at first, but it soon turned into a heated one when Fabian wrapped his free arm around Theron’s back and pulled him closer, needing the contact, the warmth, the firmness of Theron’s small body against his own, much broader one. “We should go home,” he growled as soon as they parted enough for him to be able to speak. “You have no idea how incredibly sorry I am right now.”


End file.
